


Hot Girl Summer

by snowhite_dahlia



Series: Summer Nights [1]
Category: Cats (2019), Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, But it's there, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Just a bunch of idiots, M/M, Magic Fingers, Shameless Smut, The Munkoffelees is not endgame, Trying to work it out, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23016652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowhite_dahlia/pseuds/snowhite_dahlia
Summary: All Victoria wants is to have a little fun, but that seems impossible with Munk and Misto always watching over her. Maybe it's just the summer heat that's got her all wound up, or maybe it's the wayward glances that cute girl in the leather jacket keeps tossing her way. What's a girl to do?
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Munkustrap, Rumpleteazer/Victoria (Cats)
Series: Summer Nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722505
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	Hot Girl Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistoffLikeKristoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistoffLikeKristoff/gifts).



> After seeing CATS 2019, I was immediately inspired to start working on a Coffee Shop AU based around Mistoriastrap. But then, I was inspired by a post by brand-new-girl on Tumblr and couldn't shake it...! So, I guess I made an AU of my own AU? Either way, please enjoy!
> 
> Update: I had some requests to complete the Munkoffelees half of this fic, and so I did! If that's your jam, be sure to check out the other fic in this series, "Boys of Summer." ;)

Victoria would look just _one more time_.

It wasn’t a matter of caring that— _if_ —the other woman was staring at her. It was simply self preservation. Maybe Victoria had something on her face and the other woman was trying to politely signal as much to her. Or maybe she wasn’t even looking at _her_ but at someone standing just behind her. It was a party after all and a crowded one, too. Really, there were any number of things and people of interest that were in Victoria’s general direction.

Off to her right, the twins had been showing off some of their newest moves to excited _whoops_ and cheers, and somewhere behind her sat an enormous set of speakers, thumping out a rhythmic beat that filled the entire first floor of the house. Suddenly, it dawned on Victoria that she had absolutely no idea whose house this even was.

At her left elbow, Munk was having a lively exchange with Skimbleshanks. However, because of their proximity to the speakers, she’d only been able to make out about half of what was being said and as a result, had given up participating. And that, of course, had been when she noticed the other woman.

Victoria kept her eyes trained on Munkustrap—which of course, was not a terrible thing to have to do. When they’d first met, she’d had a hard time placing an age on him as his features were all a bit of a contradiction. He had boyish good looks, which were only amplified when he smiled, but it also magnified the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He had dark hair, but at the temples it was swept with just a hint of grey. And then of course, there was the way he carried himself—confident and self-assured, usually the mark of an older man. And yet, here he was, at a late-night house party, drinking out of a red plastic cup.

At that moment, Munk must’ve said something exceptionally funny because Skimble let out a bark of laughter, absently twirling the end of his impressive ginger moustache. Not wanting to give herself away, Victoria laughed, too.

_Alright_ , she told herself, she would hazard just the tiniest, smallest, itty-bittiest little look. Surely she would glance over and find that the woman was now involved in a conversation or looking at her watch or maybe even gone completely. Certainly Victoria was working herself into a fit over nothing… right?

Screwing herself up into a tight knot of courage, Victoria ever so slowly turned her gaze back towards her would-be voyeur…

…and found herself promptly startled as she met a pair of piercing green eyes. Immediately Victoria’s own eyes ricocheted forward, before firmly focusing them on the carbonated dregs at the bottom of her cup.

Inside her chest, Victoria’s heart was beating in double time. She took a slow, deep breath to try and steady herself.

_Okay_ , so she now had confirmation that yes, the woman was indeed staring at her. This of course led to the next question: why? Was the woman trying to signal something to her? Maybe she was trapped by some try guy’s unwanted advances and was praying Victoria would see her predicament and provide a rescue? Or maybe she was just wondering why anyone in their right mind would come to a house party in a white dress that was certainly more suited to Sunday Mass?

Slowly but surely, her gnawing curiosity was beginning to overpower her social anxiety. Victoria would certainly never know why she had such an avid admirer if she spent the rest of the night boring a hole through the bottom of her cup. And what if it was an _emergency_ —

Once again, she reached back down—way down—to find her courage and lifted her gaze up to the woman.

Yes, she was still staring—well, not staring, more… regarding, as she took a delicate sip from her own cup. But this time, Victoria held her ground, even as she felt her steely resolve liquefying inside of her.

Taking her in properly, Victoria realized that she recognized the other woman. She’d seen her hanging around the Jellicle Café on more than one occasion—though, to be fair, most of the familiar faces of the evening were ones from the coffee shop, either as patrons or fellow employees. In truth, if _Victoria’s Social Connections_ and _People She Knew From The Coffee Shop_ were a Venn diagram, the thing would be a perfect circle.

“Victoria?”

A startled tremor vibrated down her spine at the sound of her own name.

Victoria’s eyes re-focused on the ever-sweet, ever-sensitive face of Mistoffelees, his raised eyebrows softly knitted together. Admittedly, in the midst of her game of visual chicken, she’d kind of forgotten he’d even been standing there. Which was a feat because, well, he was always sort of standing there, always hovering just off her elbow. He was a bit like a shadow, really, an analogy only further strengthened by his almost entirely black wardrobe. 

“Sorry, what?” she asked, leaning an ear towards him.

“Did you want another drink?” he repeated.

“Oh.” She stared back into the bottom of her cup before looking back up at him. “No, thank you.”

“Alright, then.” And he gave her that shy little smile that was so quiet and yet spoke volumes. 

She adored Misto, she really did—Munk, too. In their kindness to her, they had carved out a very special place in her heart. She’d come to London with effectively nothing, save a duffel bag and a pitiful wad of cash. She’d had no prospects, no leads, no connections—and yet, even that was better than what she was leaving behind.

Munk had taken her in, of course—let her stay in the tiny guest room of his tiny apartment, let her eat out of his tiny fridge. He’d even gotten her a bit of work at the coffee shop, despite her complete and profound inability to operate an espresso machine (it only had four buttons, _and yet._ ) At first, she had insisted on repaying him for all his generosity, trying (and failing) to press crumpled bills into his palms, but he would always laugh and kiss the top of her head and that would be that.

Eventually she realized that taking care of people was just who Munk was. He’d done the same for Mistoffelees a while back—taken him off the streets, gotten him a job at the café, helped him back onto his feet. She imagined it must be that gratitude which was behind all the tender looks Misto shot at Munk when he thought no one else was looking. Sometimes, he looked at Victoria the same way and she found herself unsure of what to do with the weight of it.

Munk had made sure she had a roof over her head but Mistoffelees, well, he’d made her feel _wanted_ , made her feel as though she really did belong in this strange little tribe she suddenly found herself a part of. He made her laugh with his terrible jokes, covered for her when she inevitably broke the espresso machine (again), and tried to cheer her with his simple but charming little magic tricks.

She adored them, she really did—had she mentioned that already? She felt safe with them, of course, but safety was no spark and admittedly, Victoria’s… _energies_ , were so pent up that she was practically craving electrocution. 

So, when the other woman nodded her head off to the left and began to stroll away in that direction, Victoria felt absolutely compelled to follow.

She leaned towards Mistoffelees. “I’m—I’m going to find the bathroom,” she lied.

He opened his mouth and for a terrible moment she worried he would offer to come with her, so she opted to head him off at the pass.

“Keep an eye on Skimble and Munk,” she said with a smile and a gentle pat to his arm. “Can’t have them getting into trouble again.” And before he could protest, she moved off into the crowd.

The house was impossibly dim and Victoria briefly wondered if she had lost her mark in the sea of bodies. Going up on her tiptoes she scanned the crowd and— _there_. With great effort, she squeezed past Tugger, who was busy telling a very animated story to a rapt audience of mostly women, and made her way into the kitchen.

The home was older, which meant the kitchen was more or less closed off from the rest of the house and thus the thump of the music was diminished into a much more muffled beat. The overhead light was also on, so it was a bit like walking out of a cave and into the sunlight. Victoria blinked her eyes against the sting of it. And when they adjusted she saw, standing opposite the large island, was the woman.

Once again, her gaze was quite firmly pointed towards Victoria and she realized, with much embarrassment, that she had followed her with absolutely no endgame in mind. Part of her considered just spinning on her heel and walking out and possibly leaving London entirely, wasn’t America lovely this time of year—?

But ultimately, the thought of returning to the party, returning to dully watching Munk and Skimble’s conversation for another ninety minutes while a boy that she liked but didn’t _like_ -like made eyes at her, was what propelled her forward. Pushing past a group of her fellow party-goers who were all eagerly chanting _CHUG CHUG CHUG_ at Cassandra, she came and stood at the corner of the island, just opposite the other woman.

In the bright kitchen light, Victoria finally had a proper look at her. She had rich ginger hair, which had been dramatically streaked with a dark brown and was currently pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her black jeans sported a hole on each knee and were tucked into a pair of half-laced ankle boots. Her t-shirt—was that some old band?—also boasted a fair amount of holes, the fabric so worn that a significant portion of it was coming apart at the neck. Topping the look off was a brown moto jacket, the leather soft from years of use.

She didn’t speak at first, just roved her eyes over Victoria. Self-consciously, Victoria smoothed a hand over her skirt.

“Daddy and Boy-Toy let you out for the night?” The snap of her words made Victoria’s eyes go wide.

“He’s not—I mean, neither of them—they’re not—” she stammered out in reply, but the other woman held up her hand.

“Settle down, kitten. Just a joke.” She nodded at the empty cup clutched in Victoria’s hand. “Need another?”

Once again, Victoria stared into the red plastic cup. “Um, sure.”

The other woman held out her hand for it and Victoria passed it over, wondering if the brush of their fingertips was an accident or not. She found herself hoping it wasn’t.

“What’re you having?” she asked suggestively. How, exactly, requesting a drink order was suggestive, Victoria couldn’t say. But with her, for some reason, it just _was_.

When Victoria didn’t answer, she gave the cup a little wave. Right. The drink.

The truth was, she’d just been sipping ginger ale all night. Victoria had never been to a party before—like, a _cool_ party—had never even been invited. She’d had no idea what to expect—that much was surely evident by her choice of attire—and so she had decided to play it safe and keep her wits about her. Plus, the thought of getting drunk—like, _messy_ drunk—in front of Munk, was not something she relished.

But the idea of admitting all that, out loud, well, she may as well have asked for a juice box.

“I—I don’t know,” she dodged. “Something fizzy.” 

“Alright, then.” Victoria could have sworn her eyes narrowed just a hair. “Then what do you like?”

“I don’t know,” she said again. They were talking about drinks still, right? “Something sweet, I guess.”

“Okay.” She was all Cheshire grin. “Sweets for the sweet.” And she turned around to the counter behind her, overflowing with a colorful assortment of half-empty bottles, and began mixing. When she was satisfied, she gave the concoction a stir with her pointer finger before bringing it to her mouth and sucking the liquid off. Apparently pleased, she turned back to Victoria and offered the cup to her.

Of course, when Victoria reached for it, the woman pulled the drink back, that sly smile playing at her lips again.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to let strangers make your drink?”

“You’re not a stranger,” Victoria blurted, which caused the other woman to quirk an eyebrow. “I mean, I know who you are. You’re Teazer. You and your brother hang around the coffee shop.”

Teazer let out a little snort as she finally relinquished the drink to Victoria. “Daddy tell you to stay away from me?”

Victoria opened her mouth to protest but, well, Munk had. He had specifically pointed at Teazer one day and said, _stay away from her_. Victoria hadn’t questioned it at the time because she was new and London was still so overwhelming and when the older man who has taken you in tells you to stay away from that girl in the biker jacket, you just sort of nod and agree. But, if she was being really and truly honest, it’d just put Teazer sort of permanently on her radar. Always on the periphery, of course, but there nonetheless.

It was ironic, she supposed. If Munk had never said anything, would she be standing in this kitchen right now?

Unsure of what to say, she took a sip of her drink. It… wasn’t bad? With Teazer as bartender, she’d expected something strong enough to—as Skimbleshanks often said of his home brews—put hair on her chest. But the concoction mostly tasted of fruity sweetness, followed by a brief bite of alcohol. Tentatively, she took another drink.

“Good?” asked Teazer. Victoria looked at her over the rim of her cup and nodded.

“So, you’re Munkustrap’s new little stray?” Her eyes flashed with challenge and Victoria forced herself to meet them.

“I’m not his stray.” She tried to make her voice sound commanding. It sort of worked. “I’m Victoria, by the way.” She’d felt awkward having not introduced herself, and frankly, she wanted to stop talking about Munk.

“I know,” responded Teazer casually, and she reached across to pull the drink from Victoria’s hand and steal a sip herself. “And what do you do?”

The Jellicle Café wasn’t just a coffee shop—it also served as a gathering place for the local artistic community. It was the pet project of the mysteriously reclusive Lady Deuteronomy—one of many, really, as she seemed to primarily use her vast fortune to fund all sorts of charitable programs related to the arts. And all the Jellicles—as they liked to call themselves—had A Thing: Jenny was their resident spoken word performer, Skimble an accomplished tap dancer, Mistoffelees of course performed magic. Even Munk had had an illustrious career as a ballet dancer before his injury.

“Well.” She swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands now that Teazer had her cup. “I work at the café, but I’m a dancer. Ballet mostly. Sometimes I fill in over at The Windmill.”

“Victoria the Ballerina.” It wasn’t a mock, more like she was turning the notion of it over in her mind. Victoria realized she liked the sound of her name from Teazer’s mouth—something about the way she drew out the _o_.

“And what do you do?” Victoria asked with genuine curiosity.

Teazer gave a little shrug. “We do a little bit of everything.” Victoria assumed the _we_ referred to Jerrie, her brother slash partner in crime. “Acrobats mostly. Balancing acts and shit like that.” Suddenly she leaned forward over the island, her smile conspiratorial. Victoria leaned forward, too, wondering if she was about to hear a secret, and realizing how hard her heart was beating against her chest.

“I’m told I’m _quite_ flexible,” whispered Teazer with a suggestive wink. The comment brought an immediate flush to Victoria’s cheeks and she knew it must’ve been a very visible flush because Teazer’s smile grew even wider.

“O-oh,” replied Victoria quietly, wishing she had some sort of witty response, but it was too hard to think what with her pulse racing and all that.

A little laugh escaped the redhead as she leaned back. “Sorry, kitten. You’re just so fun to rattle.” And she stole another drink from Victoria’s cup.

Victoria bit her lip, a wave of embarrassment rushing over her. Maybe this was stupid. Leaving her friends and following some girl she barely knew, who was clearly just bored and wanted to have a few laughs at her expense. Maybe it was just flat stupid of her to come to this dumb party at all, heck, to come to _London_. An uneasy mix of doubt, uncertainty, and regret bubbled up inside of her and she hoped the hot tears she could feel at the edge of her eyes weren’t visible.

Defiantly, she reached over and slipped her cup back out of Teazer’s hand, before taking a hearty swig of it, wondering if she should cut her losses and just get drunk—like, _messy_ drunk. As she knocked back the drink, a wayward dribble of alcohol escaped her mouth, running down on to her chin. She moved to brush it away, but Teazer was there first, swiping it with her thumb. Her fingers lingered just under Victoria’s chin, gently tipping her head up.

“Sorry,” said Teazer, everything about her suddenly a fraction softer. “People say I get a little mean.”

“It’s okay,” replied Victoria, hating the absence of her when Teazer pulled her hand back. For a moment they were quiet, the party raging on around them. “But, are you?” asked Victoria at last.

“What? Mean?”

“No,” answered Victoria, trying to keep her voice even. “Flexible.”

For a moment, Teazer just looked at her, green eyes wide. And without warning, she threw her head back, letting out a peal of laughter so loud that a few of the kitchen’s other inhabitants turned to look at the pair of them. Victoria smiled in spite of herself.

When her laughter had ebbed away, Teazer leaned down towards the island, propping herself up on her forearms. “I like you,” she said with such a smile that it made something clench deep inside of Victoria.

“Victoria!” Turning towards her name, Victoria found the bright face of Coricopat, moving through the crowd of the kitchen. She watched as his eyes moved from her to Teazer and then back again. “Mistoffelees was looking for you.” _Of course_. She held back a sigh.

“Thanks—I’ll come find him,” she said, forcing a smile. And with one last look between the pair, Coricopat disappeared back into the party. 

Victoria turned back to Teazer. “I should probably go—if he gets worried, he’ll tell Munk and Munk’ll get worried and it’ll be a whole _thing_ —”

Teazer laughed and shook her head. “Don’t want to get you in trouble.” Victoria waited for the sneer or quip about being a daddy’s girl or something of the sort, but it never came. Instead, Teazer waved her off. “I guess I’ll see you around, kitten.”

“Yeah,” Victoria breathed, suddenly realizing how much she didn’t want to go. Nervously, she tucked a strand of pale hair behind her ear. “Um, thanks for the drink. And it—it was nice talking to you.” 

Teazer straightened, casually folding her arms across her chest. Did she sense that Victoria was trying to stall? “Yeah, it was nice chatting with you, too. Now,” and she nodded her head towards the door. “Get out of here.” Teazer’s words were softened by the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Victoria found Mistoffelees out in the living room of the house, craning his neck over the sea of people, his eyes darting around in his search for Victoria. She took a deep breath before summoning a smile and waving at him. When she caught his attention, his tense features softened into relief and he moved through the crowd towards her.

“I was looking everywhere for you—are you alright?” he asked, a gentle hand coming up to her shoulder.

“Sorry, I—I got lost,” she offered, before adding, “Someone insisted on making me a drink.” She didn’t know if Coricopat would mention it to Misto, but she figured it best to cover, just in case.

“Just glad you’re okay.” He smiled, in that sweet way of his. “Plenty of weirdos here, you know?”

She laughed. “Yeah.” And then she took his arm. “Let’s go find Munk.”

* * *

Victoria had tried her best to put her encounter with Teazer out of her mind, but like so many things, it was easier said than done.

When she was at work, she found herself looking for the other woman’s face amongst all her customers, sometimes becoming so distracted with her search that on more than one occasion, she’d burnt her hand on the espresso machine’s steam wand. Perhaps the most awkward moment was when she had caught sight of a flash of ginger hair out of the corner of her eye and excitedly turned around only to be face to face with Jellylorum. _Well don’t look so happy to see me_ , her coworker had mumbled after Victoria’s face had fallen in disappointment. That had been a very long shift, but she was almost certain Jellylorum wasn’t mad at her anymore. Almost.

Nighttime wasn’t any better. Laying in her small bed in Munk’s guestroom, Victoria would shut her eyes and hope for sleep, but invariably her mind would drift towards unhelpful thoughts, such as the little flecks of gold scattered across the green of Teazer’s eyes. Or how when she laughed you could see that her left canine was a little bit more pointed than her right one. Which always made Victoria think about Teazer’s lips and how soft they looked.

And then Victoria would brush her fingers over her own lips and she’d feel that heat between her legs and briefly contemplate just how thin _were_ the walls in Munk’s apartment—

And then Munk would snore softly in the next room and she would drop her hands and screw her eyes shut tight and try to force all said thoughts from her mind.

Really, it was beginning to upend her sleep schedule, to the point that, when she was bussing tables at the café one day and she heard a voice behind her call, _hello, kitten_ , Victoria well and truly believed that it was a hallucination born of sleep-deprivation. But when it was followed by a familiar laugh and a _I think she’s ignoring me_ , Victoria blinked and finally turned around.

Sitting at a table, as casual as could be, was Teazer, her chin in her hand, and those hooded jade eyes pointed directly at Victoria. Seated next to her was the man whom Victoria had assumed to be Teazer’s brother, Jerrie. He had auburn hair and a laid-back-yet-mischievous aura, both in match to his sister. And, also just like his sister, he wore tattered jeans and a motorcycle jacket, except his was made from a worn black leather and covered in faded patches.

“Was beginning to think you didn’t want to talk to me,” said Teazer, all pouting lips.

“No!” Victoria said quickly, probably too quickly. “Sorry, I was just—just thinking to myself.” She couldn’t help the smile that was spreading across her face. “Anyway, hi.”

“Hi,” replied Teazer, her voice practically a purr. Victoria could feel her insides melting.

“Not gonna introduce me to your cute friend?” cut in Teazer’s tablemate. 

With an undisguised eyeroll, Teazer dismissively waved her hand in the man’s direction. “Victoria, this is Jerrie. Jerrie, Victoria.”

At his name, Jerrie stood. Victoria shuffled the tray and rag she was holding to under her arm and gave her hand a quick wipe on her apron before extending it to her new acquaintance. “Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips, the same grin she’d seen on Teazer’s face reproduced on his. “Pleasure’s all mine, love.”

Jerrie’s shenanigans earned a swift (and from the sound of it, quite hard) swat at his hands from his sister. “Paws fucking _off_ , Jerrie.” Her eyes were like emeralds, sharp and brilliant.

“Christ, message received,” said Jerrie, quickly relinquishing his hold on Victoria to rub at his injuries.

“So, what are you doing here?” piped up Victoria, as the siblings exchanged pointed glares.

“We’re waiting for Demeter to get off work,” answered Teazer, finally tearing her dagger-glare from her brother to look at Victoria, knives immediatelyly gone. “We’re headed to the Meow Club. Some chick Demeter’s trying to bang is singing in the band tonight.”

“O-oh,” replied Victoria, trying to sound nonchalant. “I thought she and Cassandra were—um—”

Teazer shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows with the two of them,” she said before leaning back in her chair, her knees spread. “Wanna tagalong?”

For the briefest of moments, Victoria felt her heart soar before it promptly sunk back down with heavy disappointment. “I’d love to,” she began, shifting on her feet, “but I’m closing shift tonight.”

“Damn,” cursed Teazer and Victoria took a strange comfort in the crestfallen look on her face. “Can’t you make him do it for you?” And she nodded her head towards the front counter.

Victoria turned to see that it was Mistoffelees whom Teazer was gesturing at. Mistoffelees, who was very pointedly and quite directly looking at the trio of them. _Great_ , thought Victoria as she turned back. “Sorry, Electra called out sick, so it’s just the two of us.”

Teazer lifted a mischievous eyebrow. “Lucky him.”

Victoria felt heat rising to her cheeks as she brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. “It’s not like that—”

And just then appeared Demeter, black purse slung over her shoulder, phone in her hand. She’d had her silvery-blue hair pinned back during her shift, but now it neatly framed her face. “Hey,” she greeted Teazer and Jerrie, before turning to Victoria. “Are you sure you guys will be okay without me? I could stay—”

But Victoria cut her off with a wave of her hand. “No, no. You should go—we’ll manage just fine,” she said with an encouraging smile. She was grateful that Demeter had warmed to her recently—it certainly made their shifts together much more enjoyable.

“Okay,” conceded Demeter. “I open tomorrow, so don’t worry too much about tidying, okay?”

“Until next time, kitten,” said Teazer, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she stood to join her friend.

Victoria nodded, ignoring the swell of disappointment she felt churning inside of her. “Yeah—next time,” she said, hoping her smile looked realer than it felt.

The rest of her shift passed by quickly enough—with it only being her and Misto, Victoria had more than enough work to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied, something she was pleasantly thankful for. Otherwise, perhaps she would’ve spent the entire evening obsessing over whether Teazer’s invitation to join them at the Meow Club had just been a social courtesy or something, well, more. After all, hadn’t she looked legitimately disappointed when Victoria had turned her down? Or was she just being polite? But Teazer didn’t really seem like the type of person to be kind for niceties’ sake. Maybe she just felt _bad_ for Victoria—

“Victoria?”

“Hm?” Victoria blinked, coming back to her senses.

“Did you want to take the train home or did you want to walk?” asked Mistoffelees, as he pulled the key from the door to the coffee shop and tucked it away in his bag.

“Oh, um—” She looked at her phone. “It’s probably late enough that it’s faster to walk, don’t you think?”

He gave her a little smile. “Probably right.” And then, in that funny and gentlemanly little way of his, he bowed and gestured towards the street. “Shall we?”

For a while they walked along in silence, their only companion the click of their feet on the pavement and the jingle of the keys clipped inside Victoria’s bag. The night air was still warm from the heat of the day and Victoria found herself glad to be out and above ground, instead of waiting at a station that was somehow both drafty and stuffy.

Munkustrap’s apartment wasn’t far too far from the coffee shop—a quaint little flat located on the top floor of one of Old Deuteronomy’s many real estate ventures—and was an easy walk when the weather was pleasant. Mistoffelees lived just a few streets over, in his own cramped two bedroom with Cassandra and Demeter. His proximity to Munk—and by extension, Victoria—meant that more often than not, her trips between home and work were usually escorted by one of her two self-appointed chaperones.

And it wasn’t that she minded necessarily, but on a warm night like this, when her thoughts kept drifting towards a certain green-eyed, leather jacket wearing somebody, she kind of would have maybe preferred to just be alone.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Mistoffelees at last broke their silence. “I saw you talking to Jerrie and Teazer tonight.” He was trying to keep his tone light, conversational, but was failing quite miserably.

“Oh?” she replied, trying to sound light, conversational, but also failing. She attempted to deflect. “They were going to a show with Demeter.”

He made a sort of humming sound in response and for a while it was back to clicking steps and jingling keys. Up ahead, Victoria recognized the faded red awning that marked the entrance to Munk’s building. Perhaps she would actually escape the scolding that she had been quietly bracing for all night—

“You should just… be mindful of the company you keep, you know what I mean?,” offered Misto, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She had been hoping against hope that their conversation would not go this route, but here they were. “Okay,” she said flatly, her eyes firmly trained on the empty street ahead of them.

“It’s just that Munk says—”

“I know what Munk says, alright?” snapped Victoria, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she quickened her pace ahead of Misto.

“Victoria—wait—” he called, jogging after her.

But Victoria marched on, only stopping when she was under the awning. Stubbornly, she refused to look up at him, instead focusing all her attention on digging into her purse for her keys.

“Hey—” he pleaded when he caught up to her. “Please don’t be upset—I’m sorry, I really am.”

She let a breath escape her before she raised her eyes up to him. His pained expression, the worry creased into his forehead—it was enough to make a pang of guilt prick her for being so short with him. She knew his heart was in the right place, even if it was frustrating as hell. Misto was a good guy—certainly better than any of the idiots she’d known back home—but sometimes she found herself wishing for just a bit of breathing room.

“Munk just worries about you,” he continued. “We both do. We want to make sure you’re—you know—alright.”

“I know,” she said, looking down at the keys in her hand, but only to avoid the tenderness in those deep blue eyes of his. “I’m grateful to the two of you for looking out for me—I really am—but sometimes, it’s just a little much, you know?”

He was quiet for a moment, and once again Victoria forced herself to look back up at him. He was so sensitive, so empathic to those around him. It was one of the things she liked about Misto, and she found herself wondering if maybe, in a different reality, if she could reciprocate the depth of feeling he had for her.

She reached out, pulling his hand free from his jeans pocket where he had nervously shoved it, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Don’t worry so much, okay?” And when she saw the anxiety beginning to fade from his face, she added, “Try to save your worries for Munk. He’s so busy looking after all of us—he needs someone looking after him.”

Misto let out a little chuckle, shuffling awkwardly on his feet as if he were actively dodging the implication Victoria had tossed at him. “Sure,” he said noncommittally. 

“And I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if it was you,” she insisted, but Misto just waved dismissively.

Victoria regarded him for a moment—did he really not notice the way Munk’s hand always lingered on his shoulder or that warm smile that Munk only ever seemed to give to Misto? Maybe that needed to be her summer project, to lock these two silly-hearts together in a room until they figured themselves out.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she told him, her voice sincere.

“Of course,” he replied, picking up on her cue and beginning to move towards the street “See you later?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, see you later.” But before he could go, she caught him by the elbow and pulled him into a quick embrace. The suddenness of it clearly surprised him, but he soon wrapped his arms around her, returning the warmth of it. And then, he let her go and sauntered off down the street.

* * *

Victoria’s impromptu encounter with Teazer in the coffee shop had only served to intensify her constant searching for the elusive redhead. That, combined with Munk’s insistence that she ought to keep her distance from the other woman—well, it had just made her desire to see Teazer walk through the door of the Jellicle Café burn all the hotter. 

When she was at work, her entire being seemed to revolve around the gentle tinkle of the bell that rang when the door was opened. So sharp was her response to its chime that, on more than one occasion, she had literally dropped whatever was in her hand (tray, mug, frothing pitcher full of steamed milk) in her excited effort to spin around and see who was coming in. But, always to her immense disappointment, it was never Teazer.

After several anxiety-laden days, it was becoming harder to ignore the feeling of absolute foolishness that was gnawing at her. Here she was, devoting all the energy of her waking hours to someone whose radar she probably didn’t even register on. Teazer was, well, _cool_. She walked, lived, breathed, exuded coolness. And what was Victoria? She didn’t like the answers to that question that her mind gave her.

These were the thoughts that hung around her like a dark cloud as she climbed into the elevator up to Munk’s apartment. She hadn’t wanted to come home after work, mostly because she worried that Munk, in his unending empathy, would sense her despondency and ask what was wrong—and what could she say? _You know that girl you explicitly told me to stay away from? I have not stayed away from her and in fact, she haunts my every waking thought_. Yes, that would surely go well.

But she had nowhere else to go and, well, she’d have to come home eventually, so here she was.

She stuck her key into the lock and, with a heavy sigh and great effort, pushed the old door open. “I’m home,” she called out, kicking her shoes off in the entryway.

Coming around the corner, she found Munk standing in the living room, buttoning a clean shirt up over his _immaculately_ sculpted chest. Victoria darted her eyes away—Munk was always a gentleman and of course, this was his house, but his casual tendency towards toplessness was both a blessing and a curse.

“Hey,” he greeted her warmly upon her entrance. “I was just about to text you to see where you were.”

Victoria bit back her annoyance at the not-so-subtle helicoptering. “What’s up?” she asked, trying to keep her tone bright.

“Cassandra messaged me, said there was a party up in Fitzrovia. Somebody Demeter knows. Wanna go?”

_A party_. And if it was someone Demeter knew, maybe that meant—

“Yes,” she blurted out eagerly. Maybe too eagerly, as it seemed to earn an eyebrow quirk from Munkustrap. “I mean—it’s just been a long week.” She put on her sweetest simper. “It’d be nice to do something fun.”

The warm smile came back to Munk’s face— _success_. “Let’s leave in ten.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Dropping her purse to the floor, Victoria bolted towards her room. But when she reached the door, she paused.

“You should make sure Misto knows—I think he’s been wanting to see you,” she tossed oh-so-casually over her shoulder.

There was a pause. “Did he say that?” _Double success_.

“Yep,” and she closed the door behind her to change.

Seconds later, she heard a muffled, “Like, _Mistoffelees_ Misto, right?” Victoria grinned to herself as she pulled open a bureau drawer.

Soon enough, the pair of them were walking through the entry of an antiquated row home on a street that Victoria had never been to before. Much like her previous house party experience, it was dim except for the occasional flash of colored light and the very structure of the building seemed to reverberate from the heavy pulse of music. This time, however, Victoria felt far more appropriately dressed: boxy white tee tucked into a high-waisted, distressed denim skirt, cute white sneakers. She hadn’t had time to completely recover her make-up post-café shift, but she’d made up the difference with a bright pink lip stain.

Almost immediately after stepping through the entryway, Victoria heard someone call out to Munk. To Victoria’s immense relief, they both turned to see Alonzo waving them over. Seeing her opportunity, Victoria touched Munk’s elbow.

“I’m going to get a drink and find Demeter—I’ll catch up with you later.” And she slipped off into the crowd.

It wasn’t a total lie. She had considered getting a drink—liquid courage and all that—and she _was_ keeping her eyes out for Demeter… in case she knew if A Certain Redhead was in attendance. Not like it mattered what she was off doing—she was an adult, a fully independent woman, and if she wanted to spend her evening chasing down an extremely attractive lesbian in a leather jacket, well, that was her prerogative… right?

Victoria moved from room to room, fully aware of how silly she probably looked: constantly going up on her tiptoes, twisting her neck from side to side in her desperate search. But she couldn’t be bothered to care, her focus on finding her mark too great.

A growing sense of disillusionment was building inside of her. She’d spotted a few girls in leather jackets but none of them had turned out to be _her_ girl in a leather jacket. She was on the verge of calling it quits and returning to Munk’s side in defeat, when she came around a corner and—

Smack dab in the middle of a gaggle of women, there was Teazer. On one side of her stood Demeter and Cass—maybe they were back together?—and on the other was Bombalurina, tall and gorgeous in stiletto boots and a sleek, blonde bob. Somebody must’ve just made a particularly fabulous joke because they were all clutching their chests and wiping at their eyes in laughter.

At the sight of Teazer, Victoria immediately felt a lightness blossom in her chest and she started to move towards the group of them. That is, until she saw—no, it couldn’t be—it was so dark, she was certainly seeing things, right? Victoria stopped in her tracks. Did Bomba have her arm around Teazer’s waist?

It was a small thing, really. Just a fraction of a blip, a fading flash. But a pin prick was still a wound and immediately, she felt all her confidence deflating out of her.

Suddenly, the music was too loud, the flash of lights too bright, the crush of people too much. Pushing her way back into the crowd, Victoria walked blindly, colliding into shoulders and elbows. At last, she found a door to the back patio and she threw her weight against it, crashing out into the still night air. The patio was substantially less crowded, just a few wayward smokers. Victoria ignored them, sinking into a lawn chair at the opposite end.

She’d been stupid, _hopelessly_ stupid. How many hours had she spent running their brief conversations through her mind, trying to remember every word, every look, every weighted pause? Making an iron-tight case in her mind that they’d had some sort of electric connection? How long had she spent nursing this spark inside of her, praying that with just one more encounter, it might ignite into a real flame?

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and it only made her feel all the more foolish. She tilted her head up to keep them from running down her face. Eventually she’d have to find Munk again and how would she explain her tear-stained cheeks? 

Had this been the reason behind his warning? Did he know this would only end in Victoria getting her stupid, stupid heart broken and now she’d have to tell him he’d been right?

She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to will away the wetness around her eyes. Maybe she could just text Munk, tell him she wasn’t feeling well, that she was just going to head home—

“Is that you, kitten?”

The voice behind her was like a sweet hum and Victoria felt equal parts elation and dejection at hearing it.

Coming to sit in the lawn chair next to her was, of course, Teazer, ever in her uniform of torn jeans, tatty top, and—yes—leather jacket. Her tone was casual, but the way she regarded Victoria was anything but.

“I thought I saw you in there, but you darted off so quick,” she began, sinking down into the creaky plastic. “Didn’t think I’d find your pretty self all alone out here.”

“I—um, I just needed some fresh air,” stuttered Victoria, trying to discreetly wipe at her eyes. She hazarded a glance at Teazer, whose cocked head and raised eyebrows said she wasn’t buying it.

“I saw you with Bombalurina,” she admitted softly, her eyes finding her lap. “You seemed… friendly.”

“With Bomba?” She could hear Teazer scratching her head. “I mean, yeah, we’re friends—and I guess we dated about a thousand years ago, but—” There was a pause as the gears turned. “Wait, is that why you flew out of there? You didn’t think—?” Victoria saw her make a vague gesture out of the corner of her eye. She waited for an answer from Victoria, but there were no words, she could only purse her lips and shake her head.

And that’s when she felt a gentle finger under her chin, as Teazer tilted her head up to meet her gaze.

Victoria wasn’t sure where the rush of courage came from. Maybe it was the soft shine of Teazer’s eyes in the halogen glow of the porch light, or the way she had her bottom lip tucked under her teeth, or the simple fact that, in that moment, Victoria was certain she had never seen anyone look more beautiful. Whatever it was that caused the swell of emotions to crash over her, she decided to ride it into territory unknown.

Cupping Teazer’s cheek in her palm, she pulled her close and pressed a kiss on to Teazer’s lips. It wasn’t a good kiss by any measure, but Victoria was certain it made her position pretty clear. She expected the other woman to pull away, but she didn’t—instead, she leaned in and it made a heat build inside of Victoria.

When they did at last break apart, Victoria opened her eyes to find that now-familiar grin gracing Teazer’s features. “Come on,” she said, lacing her fingers into Victoria’s and pulling her from her chair.

Teazer led the pair of them back into the house, snaking through the crowd towards a destination Victoria was uncertain of. As they moved along, the fire inside Victoria steadily burned hotter, her pulse pumping so loud in her ears it nearly drowned out the dance music filling the house. They came around a corner and suddenly Teazer was pulling her out of the crowd and up the stairs.

When they reached the landing, Teazer tried a nearby door, pushing it open to reveal a small bedroom and two boys Victoria didn’t recognize engaging in—ahem— _activities_ . As the noise from downstairs flooded into the room, they were met with a staunch _what the fuck_ — but Teazer seemed unbothered.

“ _Out_ ,” commanded Teazer, her tone leaving zero room for argument. The boys shuffled past them, but Victoria kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to stifle a laugh.

No sooner had the door closed and locked with a definitive _click_ , then Teazer had Victoria pressed against the wall. Their mouths crashed together in a hungry kiss, a good kiss, certainly better than the impromptu gesture Victoria had pulled on the porch. And god, Teazer’s lips were just as soft as they looked.

A feathery sigh escaped Victoria as Teazer trailed those soft lips of hers away from her mouth, under her jaw, and up behind her ear. She shifted to give Teazer better access to herself, burying her nose in her curtain of ginger hair. Victoria took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating mix of fragrant shampoo and what Victoria could only assume was just Teazer’s natural musk.

Over the fabric of her t-shirt, Victoria could feel Teazer’s hands gliding down. One settled on her hip, but the other pressed on, past her denim skirt, slipping under its hem. With a gasp equal parts surprise and delight, she felt Teazer’s thumb brush over the hem of her panties.

“Teazer,” Victoria began—when had her voice gotten so breathy? “I need to tell you—I haven’t done… this before. I mean, not with a girl.” She could feel a flush burn on her cheeks with her admission.

Instantly Teazer’s hands returned to a more neutral position on Victoria’s waist and she pulled back to look her partner in the face. “Do you want to slow down?” Her voice was breathy, too. “Or stop?”

Victoria shook her head with such vigor that a blonde wisp of hair fell into her face. “Absolutely not,” she responded with a shy smile. “I just—wanted you to know.”

“Okay.” Her Cheshire grin returned as she pushed the hair from Victoria’s face. “But tell me if you change your mind.” And then her lips were on Victoria’s again, her hips pressing into her. At the contact, a delicious moan parted Victoria’s lips, an opportunity that Teazer seized to press her tongue into the other woman’s mouth. Victoria eagerly accepted, snaking her wrists around Teazer’s neck to leverage an even deeper kiss.

Teazer’s hands were moving again, this time in tandem, slipping down over her hips to cup the back of Victoria’s thighs. And in one swift—and frankly, impressive—motion, she was lifting Victoria up and carrying her to the bed. Victoria, for her part, wrapped her legs tight around Teazer’s waist, so desperate for contact to her most sensitive spot.

When Teazer had set her down on the soft duvet, Victoria relinquished her, allowing Teazer a chance to shrug out of her leather jacket. Underneath, she only sported a soft tank, revealing the source of Teazer’s strength: her impossibly toned arms. Victoria grabbed a fistful of the front of her top and pulled her close again, her excitement heightening when she felt Teazer’s hands on her again. Soon, Teazer was pulling Victoria’s t-shirt free from the waistband of her skirt, and then up and over her head, casually tossing it to the floor.

She leaned Victoria back onto the bed, trailing kisses down her chest, between the gentle curve of her breasts. As Teazer’s lips approached the top of her skirt, Victoria shuddered from the anticipation of her touch.

“You said you were a dancer?” Teazer’s voice was soft over the steady track of muffled activity from downstairs. She had straightened and was looking down at Victoria, her fingertips running over Victoria’s warm skin.

“Yeah,” whispered Victoria, resisting the urge to cover herself against the flicker of Teazer’s emerald eyes. “Why?”

“You’re just— _really_ fucking hot.”

Eagerly sitting up again, Victoria helped Teazer shed her tank and black bralette. While one hand pulled her face in for a kiss, Victoria’s other hand reached out to delicately palm her now exposed breast. Admittedly, having never touched another girl like this, she felt a bit clumsy, leaning mostly on her knowledge of what she herself liked. But, as she brushed a thumb across Teazer’s nipple and felt her moan into their kiss, she felt just a little bit heartened.

Gently, Teazer guided Victoria back on to the bed, climbing up after to lay beside her, their legs tangling. Victoria’s hands fumbled at the button to Teazer’s pants, trying her best to bury her feeling of awkwardness at her own inexperience.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, realizing the question probably should have come before she went at Teazer’s fly.

A smile crept across Teazer’s face. “Yeah.” And, perhaps because she could read minds, she added, “You don’t have to be nervous.” 

A definitely not nervous laugh escaped out of Victoria.

As Teazer shimmied her jeans down her hips, Victoria traced delicate patterns down her stomach, occasionally earning a shudder of excitement from Teazer. At last, she dipped her hand past rough denim, between her legs. She was warm there and even through the fabric of her underwear—did Teazer wear men’s briefs?—Victoria could feel just how damp she was.

At Victoria’s touch, Teazer sucked in a breath, her hand clutching at Victoria’s hip. She stroked her, light at first, trying to gently edge her towards pleasure. Victoria bit her lip as she watched Teazer’s face in the near-dark of the room: eyes closed, lips parted. It was a heady sight.

With her fingers, she pulled at the waistband of Teazer’s panties, slipping her hand in to touch her fully. She pushed past her folds, her strokes long and slow as she tried to learn the topography of her partner’s body. Teazer, ever confident, slinked her hand along Victoria’s, guiding her towards her clit. “Right there,” she whispered, her voice cracking a bit as Victoria followed her lead.

As Teazer’s breath quickened, so did Victoria’s pace, steadily coaxing her towards her climax. Teazer’s fingers lost themselves in Victoria’s hair, her lips carelessly smashing against hers, hips arching forward. At last, she broke their kiss to whisper a throaty fuck, and sank into the bed, her hands loosening their hold on Victoria.

For a moment they just laid together in the dimness, chests heaving as they each sought to catch their breath.

At last, Teazer pulled her closer, nipping at Victoria’s bottom lip with her teeth. With a quick shift of weight, she was on top of Victoria, hand smoothing down along the line of her dancer’s body. Her touch was light, teasing, and Victoria found herself rutting her hips against the other woman’s thigh, eager for her own release. Teazer grinned through their kiss, message clearly received.

Pulling a pillow from the head of the bed, Teazer slipped it under Victoria’s hips, before pushing up the hem of her skirt. Fingertips brushed the inside of her thighs, and Victoria pressed a hand over her eyes, certain that she might die from the sheer anticipation of it all. With a searing, lightness, Teazer pressed a kiss over the soft fabric of her panties and Victoria whimpered like the grown woman she definitely was.

At last, she felt her underwear being slid off and she opened her eyes to see Teazer’s head dipping down between her thighs. Deft fingers parted her lips and an even defter tongue licked at her, long and slow. A tremor of pleasure vibrated through her and she balled up a fistful of duvet in an attempt to anchor herself. She wanted to enjoy this, to savor it, but life lately had been such an exercise in sexual frustration and Teazer just felt so deliciously _good_ , she wondered if this would be less of a marathon and more of a sprint directly over a cliff.

Absently, Victoria twined her fingers in Teazer’s copper strands, as a thumb rubbed at her clit in concentrated circles. She almost considered asking her partner to slow her pace, but her desire for that sweet orgasmic bliss was too overpowering. Her hips rocked in rhythm to Teazer’s strokes, warmth pooling in her thighs. Her summit was in sight and she knew she just needed that last push—which arrived in the form of Teazer’s two fingers, sliding in just _so_ , pumping against that delicious little bundle of nerves.

And then, suddenly her pleasure was crashing over her and Victoria was certain she was seeing stars. Her hips gave an involuntary buck, causing her to bump Teazer’s nose—she hoped she’d take it for the compliment it was.

As Victoria drew ragged breaths, Teazer climbed back up to collapse beside her. Automatically, Victoria rolled herself into her arms, burying her face in the crook of Teazer’s neck. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, luxuriating in each other’s embrace, but she knew she didn’t want it to end.

It was Teazer who moved first, brushing a chaste kiss across Victoria’s forehead, before pushing herself up to retrieve her scattered clothing. Victoria was once again aware of the hum of music and suddenly remembered oh right, there’s a party downstairs. She sat up, snatching up her underwear and sliding back into them.

“Thanks, by the way,” she murmured, watching Teazer zip up her jeans. “That was… nice.”

Teazer bit back a grin as she pulled on her tank. “Hope it was a little bit better than just nice.”

“It was,” Victoria corrected. “It was… really great, actually.”

Teazer bent to scoop up Victoria’s shirt, beckoning her to the edge of the bed with her finger. Dutifully, Victoria slid over, letting the redhead slide the tee over her head. 

“So,” she began, smoothing Victoria’s probably very impressive bedhead. “Can I get your phone number this time or what?”

And once again, Victoria grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her into a kiss.

\----------

Victoria checked her phone one more time. They _had_ agreed on 6:30, right? She knew that there had been some back and forth, but it was only 6:32, she wasn’t really late yet. Maybe she should check her texts again—

Thankfully, her thought spiral was interrupted by a knock at the front door of Munk’s apartment.

“I’ll get it!” she called, nearly tripping and catching herself on her bedroom door handle in her frantic rush.

Heart pounding, face flushed, she excitedly pulled open the door and was delighted to find—

“Mistoffelees?”

The dark-haired man’s confused expression was surely a mirror of her own.

“H-hey,” he greeted her, bringing up his hand in an awkward wave. He looked at her for a moment, accurately reading the befuddlement on her face. “I take it you were expecting someone else?”

“Sorry—um, yeah. I—” Well, there was no use lying about it. “I have a date.”

“A date?” His eyebrows went up even higher. “With who?”

Right on cue, a hand clapped Misto on the shoulder from behind. “What up, Boy-Toy,” grinned Teazer, hair pulled up in a messy bun, leather jacket tied around her waist. “I thought that was you on the stairs.”

Misto looked from Victoria to Teazer and back again, mental gears sputtering and turning. Victoria smiled, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

That is, until her own gears began turning.

“Wait—so what are _you_ doing here?”

“Hey, Misto,” said Munk casually, coming towards the entry.

Victoria rounded on her heel to look between the two of them. It couldn’t be—but the sheepish look on Mistoffelees’ face said that it absolutely, definitely, most certainly _was_.

“You said you were going out tonight, right, Victoria?” asked Munk expectantly. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed on his chest as if he were desperately trying to project an air of casual indifference. Victoria had never seen him wearing anything less than perfect confidence and it was frankly endearing to see him so clearly nervous.

But before Victoria could answer, Munk’s eyes focused on the second figure lingering in the doorway. “Wait, is _this_ who you’re going out—"

And in a stunning feat of swiftness, Teazer grabbed hold of Victoria, simultaneously pulling her out the door as she pushed Mistoffelees in. “Have fun, kids! And don’t wait up!” And she yanked the door closed, dragging Victoria with her as she made a break for the stairs.

When the pair was safely outside, they stopped under the awning to catch their breath before erupting into a fit of laughter, hands still clasped together. As it died away, of course, Teazer pulled Victoria into a kiss so sweet it made her wish they were the ones staying in.

“So, where d’you want to go, kitten?” purred Teazer when they’d broken apart.

“Doesn’t matter,” sighed Victoria contentedly. “I just want to be with you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to know what happens to Munk and Misto (our other favorite pair of idiots), be sure to check out the next fic in this series. :) Thanks!


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